A Helping Hand
by ZoraGabriel
Summary: Stephen Farrelly is too busy winning matches and touring the world to handle mundane paperwork, so he hires a personal assistant to help him out.
1. Chapter 1

Stephen let his gaze to follow the young woman around the room. Her long, dark hair was pulled out of her face and into a messy bun, and he allowed his eyes to follow the curve of her slender neck down to the emerald shirt she had put on that morning. A black, pinstriped vest emphasized her small waist and Stephen had a hard time keeping his eyes away from her backside as she bent over to retrieve papers from her desk. Finally, he tore his eyes away from her and coughed lowly to get her attention. What Stephen hadn't expected was the startled yell that escaped her full lips as she turned around quickly enough to knock over a pile of folders on her desk.

"Holy mother of-"she began before taking a deep breath and starting again: "…I'm sorry you frightened me…"

Stephen chuckled softly. "I can see tha' lass, I'm sorry for scarin' ya," he said with his thick Irish brogue. She took a moment to study him, her gaze wandering over his large arm, and his thick broad chest before looking up into his bright blue eyes.

"It's alright, I startle easy, it seems." She smiled brightly, "Is there something I can help you with, sir?"

"My name is Stephen Farrelly, we have a ten o'clock, I believe. That is, if you are Katherine Lindsay?"

The woman nodded and held out her hand for him to shake. "That's right, Mr. Farrelly. Please, call me Kit. Do you want to sit down?" she asked, motioning to the comfortable looking chair opposite her desk.

"I do, but only if you agree to call me Stephen, none of this 'Mister' business." She nodded and he continued, plopping himself down, removing his flat cap to reveal his red hair. "It seems like we're going to be spending a lot of time together, aye?"

Kit tucked a stray wisp of hair behind her ear before taking a seat behind her tiny little desk. "It does seem that way. I wanted to thank you for this opportunity, and ask what requirements you would have of me?"

"I'm not sure honestly. I've never had my own personal assistant before, and in the interest of full disclosure, I'm not sure if I even want one. My schedules are gettin' a bit out of hand, though, so maybe it's time I had some help. As long as you're alright with the traveling schedule and being cramped in a car with three big, probably smelly guys, then you should be all set."

Kit laughed, and Stephen smiled as her green eyes sparkled beneath her long lashes. "I grew up with three brothers, all of whom played football. I think I'll be fine, Stephen."


	2. Chapter 2

Kit braided her hair over one shoulder absently, watching the television from her hotel room bed. It was Sunday night, and Stephen had gone out with some of his friends from the roster. Her first week had gone smoothly, and she had decided to call it an early night once they had gotten to the hotel. The Walking Dead, her favorite show, was on, and was Kit was wrapped up in the story before too long. She was complaining out loud about a commercial when a loud knock disrupted her thoughts.

She climbed off of her bed and opened her door without checking the peephole, and was startled to see Phil on the other side. "Punk?" They had met that week in catering, but she was still confused as to why he would seek her out.

"I'm sorry, Kit, but my- …is that a Nexus shirt?"

Kit glanced down, realizing she had answered the door in her pajamas. She rolled her eyes and sighed, "I was watching TV before bed. Is there something you needed?"

"Besides admiring you in a Nexus shirt and Marvel pajamas?" Kit sighed again and went to shut the door, but Phil stopped it with one hand. "I'm sorry, but I know you watch The Walking Dead, and my cable is being ridiculous… I was hoping you'd let me crash for a bit."

She hesitated just a moment before stepping aside. "Don't make me regret this Phil. I've spent all week locked in a car with Stephen, Stu and Drew, this was supposed to be my alone time."

Phil grinned as he stepped in her room and made himself comfortable in the chair opposite the television. "Shhh… the show's back on."

"Hey, don't- …it's back on?!" She let the door swing closed and ran back to her spot under the covers, her eyes glued to the program. It wasn't until three commercial breaks later that one of them spoke.

"So… why Nexus?"

"I have a thing for bad guys. Especially hot ones."

Phil lifted an eyebrow, "How did you feel about New Nexus? Or the Straight Edge Society?"

Kit shrugged, "They weren't as pretty."

Phil just looked at Kit, his jaw dropped, but their show came back on, and her attention was fixated on watching Rick Grimes and his group battling a herd of walkers. He let his own attention wander back to the television, but was soon interrupted by the sound of giggling. "What are you-" he turned to see her laughing at him.

"You are such an easy mark, Punk. Really? You got upset because I said Barrett and his band of merry men was _prettier_ than you? Really?"

Punk rolled his eyes. "Alright, Miz. I get it. You win. Hey, the shows over, I should head to bed."

"And miss The Talking Dead? Are you insane? Sit your ass down and enjoy the show."

"Yes, ma'am."


	3. Chapter 3

Kit yawned, tugging her fingers back through her hair as she climbed out from under the covers of her bed. Her braid had come undone during the night, and wisps of her long, dark hair were in her face. Punk must have turned off the television and the lights before he left the night before. They had finished watching their shows and proceeded to stay up past some ungodly hour talking. As it turned out, they had a lot of interests in common, and Punk had promised to loan her some comics when they met for lunch today.

It was only seven, and she knew Stephen would be up soon for his morning workout and she decided to head to the gym herself. She pulled her hair back into a messy bun and changed into a short pair of workout shorts, a sports bra, and a black tank top. With socks and her sneakers on she was ready to go down to the miniscule hotel workout center. She knew that the superstars would head to the bigger gym across the street and was hoping for some privacy. She popped her ear buds in and cranked up her music as she hopped on the treadmill, setting it to a low, comfortable speed. Her own thoughts kept her preoccupied as she walked, bobbing her head along to her music. She had been walking for almost twenty minutes when someone tapped her on the shoulder.

She tugged an ear bud out as she turned her head to see who had interrupted her. "Stephen! I'm sorry, did you need something?" She hit the stop button and let the treadmill slow down.

"Why are you hiding in here, Kit?" He asked, "You know there's a much better one across the way?"

Kit grabbed her water bottle, taking a drink before answering. "I thought it'd be better to do it here. I didn't want- …I feel more comfortable without everyone I work with watching me, I guess."

Stephen shrugged, "I suppose. What did you do last night? The guys were hoping you were going to come out with us."

"I just watched television. Phil came over to borrow my cable, and we wound up talking for a while."

"Punk came over? Really?" Stephen was surprised, "He doesn't spend much time with anyone here other than Kofi."

She just shrugged in response. "We have a lot in common. …You should go do your workout, we have a busy day before the show tonight." She put her music back on as he left, but a tap on her shoulder less than a minute later had her annoyed. "Stephen, just- …oh, its you."

Phil raised an eyebrow as he hopped onto the treadmill beside her, cranking it up to a run. "The big Irishman pissing you off already?"

Kit began walking, letting out a sigh. "Apparently, I should be working out at the bigger, fancier gym so everyone can watch and make me feel bad because I'm not a tiny itty-bitty blonde thing."

"Like Kelly Kelly?"

"Exact- …sorry. That was out of line. Stephen was probably just looking out for me. He wants me to have access to the best, or whatever. Why are you here and not there? Or, better yet, why aren't you outside for your run? I thought that was what you preferred?"

Phil shrugged, "It's raining, and I don't enjoy watching all those muscle-heads ogle those 'tiny itty-bitty-blonde things.'" Kit blushed and Phil laughed for a moment before getting serious. "How long were you in rehab?"

Kit blinked, "Excuse me?"

"The way you walk, knee injury? Hip? What was it?"

She hesitated another moment before bursting into a fit of giggles. "When you said rehab I thought- …I thought that _you_ thought I was an addict…" They both laughed before she answered him, "I only made it through three weeks. I displaced my kneecap, and I made it through three weeks before I got bored and annoyed and decided to just do it myself at home."

"Does it still hurt?"

"Only sometimes," she responded truthfully. "I walk fine on it usually, but these treadmills are killer. I normally use an elliptical when in a real gym."

Phil nodded and they continued on for a while before Kit stopped. "I should go, Stephen has media before the show."

'Take care."

"You too." She made it to the door of the workout facility before she heard him call after, "Tomorrow, we're going to a real gym, missy."


	4. Chapter 4

Kit showered and prepared for the day, drying her hair and brushing it smooth. She applied some makeup, circling her green eyes with dark kohl liner, and applying a bit of tinted lip balm. She was dressed nicely, but still casual enough to fit in with many of the wrestlers. She wore dark denim jeans, and threw a white blazer on over red and black layered tank tops. She contemplated heels, but being so tall already, she decided on simple black flats before accessorizing with silver earrings and a long silver necklace.

She showed up at Stephen's door ten minutes later, her tea in one hand, and his lunchtime protein shake in the other. The rest of his meal would be arriving via room service in a few minutes. He answered the door in a white button down and jeans, his hair lying flat on his head, still wet from his shower. "Thank the stars you're here. …you can't sew, can you?" Kit blinked as he took his shake from her hand, taking a moment before nodding. "I have thread an' a needle, can you put my button back on my vest? I just brought the one."

Kit went right into work mode, instructing him to finish getting ready and have his lunch before sitting down to fix the button. Stephen did a double take as she flipped a knife out of her purse, using the blade to remove the torn strings and cut new thread. She had the button finished before he finished his meal, and put the mending items away. "You always carry a weapon on you?"

"I've spent half of my life living in a city… it's a necessary precaution."

Stephen nodded and they both finished getting ready in silence. They headed down to the car and he opened her door for her before sliding into the driver's seat. Kit had preprogrammed the GPS to the arena, but he had been to Boston so many times, he knew where to go.

Four interviews, two hours of autographs, and a very sore hand later, Stephen and Kit were in his dressing room waiting for the show to start. He had already begun his warm-up routine, and Kit knew by now not to interrupt him. She sat on the floor, her back against the wall as she read through the comic Phil had brought her earlier. She had texted him to let him know she needed to skip their lunch, and he made her promise dinner with him after the show instead. Stephen had given her an odd look, but she was looking forward to having a friend of her own to spend time with.

"Alright, time for me to go, lass."

Kit looked up with a smile. "Good luck out there. Stay safe."

"I don't need more luck, I'm already Irish," he laughed, winking at her before leaving the room.

Kit set her comic down, knowing she won't be able to focus on it while Stephen was in the ring. She lay down along the wall, her head on her purse like it was a pillow, and waited. She closed her eyes and took deep breaths, willing herself to remain calm. She had been watching Stephen wrestle as Sheamus since he debuted years ago, but it was different now that she knew him. Before she knew she was sleeping, the door opened and slammed shut, scaring her awake.

'I swear ta' God," Stephen yelled, his anger making his Irish brogue thicker, "if Show gets ta' hit me one more time with _my_ belt, m'gonna-" he turned and saw the look on Kit's face, immediately stopping his tirade. "…Kit? Kit, M'sorry, I didn' realize you were here…"

She shook her head, clearing the sleepiness from her brain. "It's alright, Stephen. …I startle easily, remember?" She forced a small laugh, "I suppose that's what I get for falling asleep on your floor."

Stephen crossed over and helped her stand, mumbling another apology. "Can I make it up to you? …take you to dinner and apologize?"

Kit hesitated, "I'm having dinner with Phil." He looked so crestfallen that she couldn't resist extending an invitation. "Would you like to come with us?"

"I don't want to interrupt your date."

She blinked once and then erupted into earnest laughter. "Date? _Date?_ You thought- …oh no, we're just friends. I mean, I like him, and we have a lot in common, but- …no. Just no. You're coming to dinner, so go shower and get dressed."


	5. Chapter 5

Phil had been less than happy to bring Stephen along, but sucked it up to please Kit. Now, an hour after the show had ended, the trio were sitting in a booth at a little hole-in-the-wall diner waiting for their food. Phil had his Pepsi, Stephen had his beer, and Kit had her ice water with lemon.

"So, how did you meet Stephen, Kit? You still haven't told me how he hired you."

"Well, technically, Punk, he never did. I was hired by a third party agency that reviewed my resume and passed it along." She turned to Stephen, "did you even read it?"

Stephen blushed, his white face flushing pink on the apples of his cheeks, and tried to recover: "Of course I did, lass…"

Punk raised an eyebrow at him, "What did subject did Kit major in, Stephen?"

"Uh… Personal assisting?"

Kit and Phil both rolled their eyes at the big Irish buffoon, and returned to their previous conversation. Kit had finished most of the comics he had lent her, and there was much to discuss. Stephen, on the other hand, busied himself by reorganizing the sugar packets on the table. A few minutes later, their food arrived and they all dug in.

Kit picked at her salad, separating out the vegetables she didn't like, folding the onions and tomatoes into a spare paper napkin. She then topped them with two-thirds of the croutons that were perched on top of her lettuce. She looked up to grab her salad dressing to find the two men staring at her. "Yes?"

"Picky eater?" Stephen guessed.

"Dieting?" That one was Phil.

"Yes. And yes." She replied, rolling her eyes. "Do we have to discuss it?"

"Yes!" they both exclaimed. Phil continued: "You _are_ dealing with two professional athletes who take what they put in their system very seriously."

Kit lifted her brow, "Really? Really, Punk? _Really?_ You're eating tater tots."

Phil hesitated, "They're- …healthy tater tots?" He frowned, "This isn't about me, Kit. Just tell us, maybe we can help."

Kit met Phil's gaze with her own, her eyes cold. "Are you trying to say something Phil? Do you think I _need_ to diet?"

He went wide-eyed, stammering out multiple apologies, "No! No, no, no, that's not what I meant! I just- …_Kit!_"he whined, "You're teasing me again, aren't you?"

Stephen grinned, watching the two interact, enjoying the look on Phil's face as Kit started laughing. "I've never seen a woman give Punk what he deserves. It's nice to know a lady who can hold her own." He slung his arm along the back of the booth behind where Kit was sitting.

"Like I said when I met you, you learn to hold your own when you have three older brothers."

They ate their meals in comfortable silence and then made their way out to the rental that was in Stephen's name. He opened the door for Kit again, motioning to Punk to get in the backseat. Stephen drove Punk back to his bus at the arena, and then he and Kit back to the hotel, noticing she had fallen asleep with her head on the window.

She looked too peaceful to wake up. He opened her door, unbuckled her seatbelt, and hoisted her gently into his arms. It was pretty easy to carry her in, but realized he had no idea where she kept her room key, so he brought her to his room. He had a second bed, and gently laid her upon it. The moment her head hit the pillow, she rolled up into a ball and snuggled into the blanket he laid over her.


	6. Chapter 6

Kit rolled over in her bed when her alarm went off, wiping the sleep out of her eyes. She must've fallen asleep in her clothes, because she was uncomfortable as forced to slide out from under the covers. She looked around the room to find her phone and end the alarm when a groan and low swearing made her turn around quickly. She just glimpsed a pale hand receding into the large fabric cocoon of sheets and fiery red hair sticking out of the top.

"Stephen?" She asked nervously. "Is that you?"

"Go away," he grumbled, "too early."

"Stephen we have to get up now."

He startled awake, "Kit?" She nodded and he sat up, the blankets falling to his waist and exposing his broad, bare chest. "Right… sorry. You fell asleep in the car and I didn't know where your key was."

"It's alright, Stephen. Thank you. I'm- …well, I'm going to go get ready. You should- should probably put some clothes on." She giggled and left the room, leaving him still in bed.

Stephen scratched his hand through his hair as he climbed out of bed and headed towards the bathroom to take a quick shower. Afterwards, he got dressed and tossed his hat over his still damp hair. He didn't have to make an appearance at the SmackDown taping, so he and Kit were heading straight to the next location. He gathered his things and headed down the hall to her room, knocking softly.

Kit opened the door, her hair still wet and hanging in loose curls around her face. She was dressed comfortably for their journey: skinny black jeans and a graphic tee under one of her trademark blazers. Stephen smiled as he saw the shirts design, "Ninja Turtles?"

"Hush you, it's comfortable. And Ninja Turtles are classic, don't hate."

Stephen held his hands up in defense, "I'm not saying anything. Are you ready to go?"

"I just need a few minutes to finish packing up my toiletries. Have a seat; it should just be a minute."

She made her way to her suitcase, dragging the entire thing into the bathroom as Stephen laughed softly. "Where are we flying to, Kit? I've lost track."

Kit yelled through the door, "Boston!"

"Hey, you're from there right? Are you going home for a few days?"

She walked back into the room, dragging her suitcase behind her. She'd already thrown on her shoes and her jacket. "Maybe, I don't know. I am going to have to leave RAW early Monday. I have- …I have somewhere to be."

Stephen raised his eyebrows curiously, "Is everything alright?"

Kit laughed nervously, "Yeah, it's fine. I just have a prior commitment that they knew about when they hired me."

"What kind of commitment?" He asked, curious.

"Oh, you know…" She grabbed her suitcase and wheeled it out the door to avoid answering the question, and he followed behind.

"Don't worry, I'll figure it out."


	7. Chapter 7

Stephen had given up hope on finding out what Kit's "commitment" was. She wasn't acting fidgety, or nervous, or upset like he expected to be if it was something she was dreading or anxious about. In fact, she was happy to be in Boston, and spent few days out and about with her friends after giving Stephen his media schedule and arranging his meals.

The rest of the roster had caught up with them in the city and Stephen ended up spending quite a bit of time with Drew, who he hadn't seen much of since 3MB had formed.

"John told me about this place, few towns over. He said he and his friends used to hang out there, and they have cover bands every night. His friend said the band playing Monday is pretty famous on the local scene, and their lead singer is _hot_. You want to go after the show?"

"I don't know, Drew. I have that big match…"

"Oh come on, it's just a pint and a wee bit of music."

"Fine, I'll go, but only for an hour."

RAW came and went, and Stephen took a hot shower, the water needling into his sore shoulders. Kit had left early like she said, and Stephen had seen her walking out with a big bag in her hand. He would have invited her along, but she seemed preoccupied when he talked to her in catering before the show.

Drew and John met him by the exit and they got in their rental, a few other Superstars stopping them to say good night. Phil nodded in their direction, and Stephen hesitated only a quick moment before yelling out to him.

"Fancy some music, Punk?"

Phil stopped and turned back, his brow raised, "Are you going out?"

"Aye, John's friends recommended this place… said there's good music."

"And hot chicks!" interrupted Drew.

Phil laughed, "Do you actually want me to go, or do you just need a designated driver?"

"Just come with us, Punk. It's late, and I don't feel like arguing."

Phil nodded and slipped into the backseat of the car beside Drew. "Don't make me regret this."

They pulled up outside the little club, a crowd of twenty to thirty-somethings lined up outside the hole-in-the-wall place. The bass of loud live music thudded from within, and they could hear It from the moment they exited the car. The bouncer let them in when he recognized the four wrestlers, and let them skip the line.

"Thank God for celebrity status," laughed John.

"Shut it, Cena. He had no idea who you were, he recognized me, the Best in the World," Phil grinned.

They all got a drink and were guided to a booth in the VIP section, sinking into the tall high back of the leather furniture. The band playing was pretty good, but the four could tell it was just a warm-up before the headlining band stole the show.

The crowd milled about between bands, and it wasn't long before three girls took the stage. The bassist hopped up first, and the boys were greeted with the sight of her long, slender legs encased in grey leather and black high-heeled boots. The tiniest strip of pale skin was visible between the leather and the bottom hem of her shredded Ramones shirt, which had been lovingly hacked with a pair of scissors. Her long, dark hair had been pulled back behind her ear with a yellow leather rosette, and bracelets covered her from wrist to elbow. Drew let out a low whistle, vocalizing the other guys' appreciation as they admired her.

The drummer came up onto stage next wearing a green bomber jacket unzipped halfway to reveal a fishnet shirt and her black tank top. She was wearing orange animal print pants with a wide white studded belt and heeled white boots. She stepped behind her drums and pushed her sunglasses up out of her face and into her cropped hair as the guitarist emerged as well.

Before plugging in her instrument, the woman stepped up to the microphone, the bright lights of the stage shining brightly on her shirt, hot pink hair. She wore a black bra beneath a tight fitting white tank top, and her legs were encased incredibly skinny black jeans, and red Converse covered her feet. She cleared her throat and addressed the eager crowd.

"Hey guys, how is everyone tonight?" she asked, to a chorus of cheers. "Awesome. So, most of you probably know, Shame has been on hiatus for a few weeks while that silly singer of ours has been off gallivanting with celebrities and leaving her sisters behind to fend for themselves!" Several low boos came from the club's regulars, and the guitarist laughed before continuing. "Well, we've been abandoned no more. Back tonight, returning to her roots, your friend, our pain in the ass, the one, the only Kit Katastrophe!"

The club erupted into cheers, and Phil and Stephen glanced at each other. "Kit?"


	8. Chapter 8

Stephen's jaw dropped has his assistant, his sweet little PA Kit, who was too shy to meet half the locker room bounded onto the stage. Her long hair, which was normally braided back or brushed smooth was loose and free around her face, and her eyes- oh God, those startlingly green eyes were edged roughly with sultry black liner. Her body, which he had spent so long admiring that first day, and spent so long trying to ignore since then, was on display: a short black vest stopped just an inch below her bust, and Stephen could tell she had noting on under it but a black lacy bra, which peeked out just above the top button. Her abdomen was left bare, revealing the smooth skin of her abs before disappearing into the low waistband of her gray plaid cargo pants that tucked into a pair of black combat boots.

He looked away just long enough to catch the same startled looks on the faces of his three friends who then looked to him. "Did you know about this?" asked Phil.

Stephen shook his head. "Ask John and Drew, they brought us here."

Both wrestlers shook their heads, and they turned their attention back to the stage, where Kit and her band were just breaking into the first chords of "Bad Reputation." She was good, and the crowd was eating up their performance as Kit strutted around the stage and head banged with the crowd, constantly brushing her long hair out of her face.

"Dude, let's turn up the house lights, I want to see all the idiots stupid enough to come see a defunct girl band playing covers." The house lights came up and Kit grinned as the bassist began the haunting intro to Pearl Jam's "Jeremy."

Stephen couldn't stop staring at her. She was on her knees singing to the people crushed against the stage in front of her. As the song ended, Kit tugged her hair back with her fingers, looking out into the crowd. She faltered for a moment as her gaze met Stephen's stare, frozen in spot until he offered her a big grin. She squinted into the lights, seeing who he was sitting with before breaking into a grin of her own. She hopped over to the guitarist and whispered something in her ear before turning back to her microphone.

There were more hushed whispers and grins before the pink-haired pixie began the next song, picking out the eleven notes of the intro, and Phil grinned widely as the drums, and then the bass kicked in. Kit offered him a wink, "Cult of Personality" now in full swing. While the other songs highlighted Kit's voice, this song featured the little guitarist's big talent, her fingers flying over the fretted keyboard, and Phil was enamored. She was sweating lightly under the heat of the lights and with the effort of playing the song. _His_ song.

It was over far too soon for both of their liking as they watched the women on stage breathe heavily, full of adrenaline as they began the next cover. Stephen recognized it as some Green Day song, but couldn't be bothered to care as he watched Kit perform. With him, she was usually nervous, or shy, always hiding beneath layers and jackets, but on stage she oozed the confidence of a woman who had done this before. Many times, by the look of it and by the reaction of the crowd when they heard she was there. It was a little hole-in-the-wall club, with tattered furniture and graffiti-covered walls, but the crowd was hers, and they were all putty in her hands.

An hour later, the band needed a break. They had killed their first set, but knew they had to rest before kicking into the next. "Alright, guys, let's give it up for those killer musicians behind me, yeah?" Kit asked the crowd, who erupted into cheers. "I'm going to do everyone a favor and let them off the hook for a bit." She let the band filter off the stage before grabbing an acoustic guitar from a stand of instruments set up and waiting. "I know you guys have been waiting to hear us again for a while now, so I'll apologize now for being a bit rusty. But a deal's a deal, so I'll play one of my favorites for you guys before I take a break too." She grinned, testing the strings of the guitar quietly before beginning the chords for her song.

It wasn't a song Stephen recognized, but he was mesmerized by the way Kit played and sang, like she was putting every atom of her being into each note and each chord. As her voice reached for the higher notes of the chorus, he could feel the goose bumps crawl over his skin and a shiver in his spine. When she was finished and the canned house music overlapped the noise of the crowd, Stephen was suddenly angry. "Why didn't she tell us?"

"I have no idea, maybe she didn't want us to know."

He glared at Phil. "Why wouldn't she want me to know? Or you? I thought we were all friends. God, she's been living with us for almost a month, and she forgets to tell us she's-" he trails off as he spots Kit and her pink-haired band mate behind the bar, fixing drinks and talking to customers. A heavy man, maybe forty, was leaning over the counter, and Stephen could see the wince of pain on Kit's face as the man grabbed her roughly by the wrist, trying to drag her close to him.

Stephen was gone from their booth and at the man's side in seconds, grabbing the intoxicated man's wrist with his own big hand. "Let her go." The man refused, and Stephen gave him one more warning, "Let her go, before I make you." The man swung drunkenly and Stephen ducked it easily before slamming the man down on the bar. He gasped in pain as his face took the brunt of the force.

Kit was released quickly when Stephen hit her attacker, stumbling back a few steps and catching herself on the counter behind her. Stephen released the man to the bouncers that now made their way over, and turned his attention back to his assistant.

"Are you okay?"

She shook her head slowly, and Stephen stepped to the edge of the bar, holding out his hand for her. "Come here, love."


	9. Chapter 9

Stephen led Kit by the hand to the back of the club, letting the cool Massachusetts air calm them both down. She was shaken up from the scene at the bar, and he could see the tell-tale beginnings of a bruise forming around her wrist. He lifted her hand to his lips, placing a soft kiss to her knuckles before turning her hand over to inspect the bruising carefully. He frowned slightly, rubbing his thumb over the finger imprints on her skin. Kit winced at the touch, trying to pull her hand away, but Stephen stopped her, placing another kiss to the pale underside of her wrist, just below her palm.

"It's okay, Kit. You're okay," he said soothingly, and Kit nodded, her gaze on the ground. "We should get you some ice. …wait here?" She nodded again, and he disappeared inside for a few minutes. When he came back out, she was sitting on the ground, her back against the building, and her wrist cradled in her lap. Stephen slid down the wall beside her and placed the ice gently where she needed it. They sat there in silence for several moments before Kit finally spoke softly.

"We played here two or three nights a week for six years. I- …I never had someone do that before."

Stephen frown, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and pulling her close. "You never told me you were in a band."

"You never asked."

Stephen laughed, the sound loud and sudden in the darkness behind the building. "Should I have? Alright. Fine. Let's see what other things I should ask, shall we? Have you ever been in the circus?"

Kit giggled, shaking her head.

"On a submarine?"

"No."

"On the top of Mount Everest? Oh! I know, you were the High Priestess of Atlantis, right?"

Kit laughed, "Okay, okay, I get it! I should have told you!"

Stephen smiled, pulling Kit's arm into his lap to inspect the bruising. "The ice is helping?" She nodded. "Do you think you'll finish the show?"

Kit hesitated a moment, then nodded. "Yeah, they came to see us. I can't let them down. I still have a few minutes though."

"Aye, and I think Punk has your guitarist cornered. Good luck getting her back."

Kit laughed, "I thought they would get along."

"How long have you guys known each other?"

"Lizzie and I? Oh, since middle school really. We sat together in band, and it was an instant friendship."

"And the others?"

"Jenny, the bassist, is my sister. She's two years younger than me, and Mara, our drummer is her girlfriend."

Stephen quirked an eyebrow. "Really?" Kit nodded and Stephen laughed softly, "I think Drew will be sad to hear that. Hopefully I get to be the one to tell him. What a trifecta: she's your sister, she's taken, _and_ she's a lesbian. Although-" he thought about it for a moment, "probably only one of those would scare him away."

"The girlfriend?"

"No," he grinned, "you."

They laughed for a moment before settling into comfortable silence. It was several minutes before Stephen spoke up again. "It might be sprained you know. I have an Ace bandage in my bag; it might help if you were going to play again."

"If you think so."

He nodded and stood up, offering his hand to Kit. She took it with her good hand and let him hoist her off the ground and to her feet. They walked out to John's rental car and Stephen riffled through his bag to find the bandage. In the light of the streetlamp, he wound it carefully around her hand and thumb. When he was finished, he placed another gentle kiss to the inside of her wrist. Kit blushed and dropped her gaze.

"Stephen-" she started, but he stopped her.

"Not now, Kit. Let's just get you back inside, yeah? We can talk about how worried you made me later, after you kick some ass." Kit smiled and nodded before letting him lead her carefully to the back door. He placed his hand on her shoulder to get her attention before they went inside. "Kit?"

"Yeah?"

"I just wanted to- …that song you sang? It was good. What was it called?"

"Oh, um, it was 'What's Up' by the 4 Non Blondes."

"I liked it. You also aren't blonde, by the way. None of you are."

"Lizzie is, actually. Just don't tell her I told you, she'll be furious."

"I won't, but I might know a certain Punk who would find it amusing…"


	10. Chapter 10

"Kit, stop being so damn stubborn!"

It was almost two hours later later, Kit had finished the show, and Stephen and Drew had whisked her away to the local emergency room to get her wrist looked at.

"It's _fine_, Stephen, I don't need to see a doctor." She started to stand up from the uncomfortable plastic chair when his fingers laced through hers and tugged her back down by her good hand.

"You're getting it looked at, lass. No ifs, ands, or buts about it."

Kit rolled her eyes but resigned herself to her fate. She squirmed in the hard chair for the thirty minutes until her name was called, trying to relax and failing miserably. She stood and got ready to follow the nurse when she finally noticed Stephen still had hold of her hand. He stood and went with her, smiling when Kit nodded her approval to the nurse. He continued holding her hand while they waited for her turn for x-rays, while the doctor gave his prognosis, and while an elderly, grumpy nurse wound her hand and wrist in the black plaster strips.

"Crap, Kit, that bad?" Drew asked. They had rejoined him in the waiting room almost two hours later, and the sight of her new cast worried their Scottish friend. He raised an eyebrow when he saw their joined hands but a look from Stephen had him shaking his head and changing the subject. "I'll drive ya back to the hotel."

The boys helped Kit to the car and Drew finally broke the silence during the long car ride back. "So, is it broken?"

"Fractured," she responded from the back seat. "Thank you for driving us at," she glanced the clock, "four a.m.?" She was silent for a moment before it clicked in her head. "Guys! You have media in the morning!"

"No we don't, lass. Drew called Vince before we even left the club."

"Stephen," she whined, "you can't blow off work because your stupid PA had a run in with a drunk!"

The Irishman squeezed her hand, "I can too, so shush. We're almost back to the hotel, and then you can rest before those painkillers wear off."

When the car stopped, Stephen let go of Kit's hand to slide out and open the door for her from the other side. He bid goodnight to Drew and thanked him again before leading the brunette to his hotel room.

"Uh, Stephen? This is your room, I'm down the hall…"

"I know, Kit, but you're stayin' here tonight. You'll need help til ya get used to tha' cast."

Kit giggled, "You're exhausted Stephen, I can tell by your voice. Really, I'll be fine, I promise."

"Shut your mouth and get ya arse in me room, lass." He tugged her good hand, pulling her into his room and guiding her to sit down on his extra bed. He pulled out one of his old, worn t-shirts and placed it on the bed next to her. "Tha' ones big on me, so it'll be comfy enough ta sleep in."

Kit nodded and waited for Stephen to turn his back and give her some privacy before fumbling with the buttons of her vest with one hand. She tried several times to undo the tiny buttons, mumbling and groaning with frustration.

"Ya need help, lass?"

"I don't know, Stephen," she snapped, "can you help me get undressed without staring at my girly bits?"

Stephen laughed, turning to look at Kit. "Girly bits? Really?"

"Hush you, this isn't easy, you know!"

He rolled his eyes, "Aye, you know, as a professional wrestler, I've never had to try to undress myself with some serious injury or another." He moved to kneel in front of Kit, his eyes serious as they met hers and his voice just barely above a whisper. "Let me help, Kit."

Kit nodded and Stephen smiled, tucking her hair behind her ears and out of her face for her. He slowly and carefully unlaced her boots, slipping them off of her feet and setting them carefully on the floor. He then kissed her cheek lightly before placing similar kisses gently down the curve of her neck. He made his way to her chest, placing a tiny kiss on her sternum, just above her breasts. He looked up and saw that Kit had her bottom lip firmly between her teeth as his hands slid up her torso to the buttons on her vest.

When the buttons were unfastened and her red, lacy bra revealed fully, Stephen pushed the straps of the vest back and off of her shoulders, helping to ease it down her arms and over her cast. He kissed her again, his lips finally finding hers and parting against them. She let his tongue enter her mouth with a soft noise that caused his growing manhood to stiffen completely. Her good hand was tugging at the hem of his shirt and Stephen obliged, pulling back long enough to pull it up and over his head before crushing his lips against hers again.

His strong hands slid up her back and to the hooks of her bra, undoing it with his fingers and sliding the satin straps down her arms. He peeled the red lace away from her skin slowly, pulling away to savor the sight of her rounded breasts. Stephen sucked one of her nipples into his mouth, nipping it gently as she moaned wantonly and repeated the same action to the other side. He slid his hand to the back of her neck, tilting her head so she looked him in the eye. "You are so beautiful, Kit." She blushed and he chuckled, his voice deep with lust. "We can't do this right now, lass. You need rest, and I've stared long enough."

Kit frowned, "Fine. But that means you'll have to deal with that erection all on your own." He chuckled again and nodded.

"It'll pass."

Stephen helped her put on his shirt, carefully avoiding her cast. He took a deep breath and held it as he helped her unbutton and remove her cargo pants, folding them carefully for her and helping her under the covers. "Stephen?"

He turned around to face her again, he had already begun getting himself ready for bed as well. "Aye, love?"

"Will you sleep here with me?"

Stephen thought about it, hesitating: "I don't want to hurt you, Kit."

"I'll risk it."

He laughed softly and nodded before stripping down to his boxers and sliding into bed beside her. She snuggled close when he put his arm around her, and tossed her injured arm over his abdomen.

"Stephen?" she whispered several minutes later.

"Yes, lass?"

Kit hesitated, trying to find the right words and settling for ones she knew would work: "Thank you."


End file.
